


it's like the hunger games, but better

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, SASO 2016 Prompt Fill, but like, drama queens being drama queens, general violence associated with paintball, gratuitous community references, nothing graphic, that seijou paintball au, the drama queen team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kindaichi,” Hanamaki laughs, striding across the room to pull him into a tight hug. “Kindaichi Yutaro you <i>son of a bitch</i>, I thought you were dead.”</p><p>Kindaichi blinks, glancing to his left to see Kunimi - sitting crossed legged on a table next to a very sweaty looking Watari - looking just as confused as he feels. “Has— Has everyone lost their minds? It’s just a game of paintball.”</p><p>“<i>Just</i> a game of paintball?” Hanamaki parrots, eyes widening as he takes another step forwards until they’re standing practically nose to nose. “Kindaichi, Kindaichi, my poor naive Kindaichi. This is more than just a game.”</p><p>Kindaichi frowns. “It...is?”</p><p>“<i>Kindaichi</i>,” Oikawa says sharply, shoving Hanamaki out of the way so he can grasp Kindaichi tightly by the shoulders. “This is a matter of life or death.”</p><p>“I mean, I don’t think it’s really tha—”</p><p>“<i>Life or death</i>,” Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi say loudly in unison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's like the hunger games, but better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivia/gifts).



> for @ambivia
> 
> she asked for, and i quote: "someone to acknowledge this drama queen team" and i am here to deliver

It’s _supposed_ to be a team-building exercise.

Something designed to foster a ‘healthy spirit of competitiveness’ among the students, while simultaneously bringing them closer to their teammates and helping them understand each other that little bit more.

It’s supposed to be _fun_ , an end of year treat for all their hard work over the last few terms, because, like their principal said, “ _what better way to boost morale, retention, and productivity, than having some lighthearted fun?_ ”

Keyword: _lighthearted_.

Kindaichi watches as Matsukawa slides across the floor on his knees, roaring something that sounds a lot like _push em back seijou!_ over and over again as he splatters two third years on the boys basketball team, cackling maniacally as they clutch at their chests and hit the floor.

Matsukawa glances behind him and extends a hand towards Kindaichi, saying, in complete and utter seriousness: “Come with me if you want to live.”

Kindaichi takes in the two third years lying on the floor, examining their wounds and grumbling between themselves, takes in the crazed look in Matsukawa’s eyes and the general _chaos_ currently echoing all around him (he can hear faint sounds of bullets exploding on impact, pained wails, war cries, and what _sounds_ like someone singing a hymn), and makes what he realises is _probably_ the worst decision he could make right now.

He takes Matsukawa’s hand.

 

* * *

 

It starts off innocently enough.

The entire athletic body of _Aobajōsai High_ are crowded into their gym so they can hear a speech from their principal about how _proud_ he is of their achievements over the last year and _blah, blah, blah_ . Kindaichi doesn’t think it’s possible for him to care any _less_ about listening to their principal drone on for an hour about the importance of sportsmanship while reading from the same pre-written speech he probably reads _every_ year and he half-heartedly considers ditching the whole affair and leaving school early. Except—

Except, everyone _else_ is acting really weird.

Oikawa has his ‘ _I’m Going To Defeat Ushiwaka’_ face on as they march towards the gym, fists balled up by his side as he listens to something Iwaizumi is murmuring in his ear. Normally, Kindaichi wouldn’t let something like that phase him, because Oikawa often gets _really_ into things that probably shouldn’t warrant so much of his attention (current interest™: Neko Atsume) and Kindaichi’s learnt just not to ask questions at this point, but, oddly enough, Iwaizumi looks strangely determined as well.

And, for that matter, so do Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Kindaichi hasn’t heard them crack even _one_ joke since they were summoned to the gym and it’s downright  _creepy_. They’re not even smiling. Just glaring ahead as they march onwards like they’ve been summoned to _war_ and not just an annoying assembly with their over enthusiastic principal.

Kindaichi quickly adds a non-smiling Matsukawa and Hanamaki to his rapidly growing list of things he never wants to see again, right beside Yahaba’s bare ass - which, for some reason, he’s seen far too many times (enough times to know he has exactly _two (2)_ beauty marks beneath his right butt cheek).

Though, speaking of Yahaba…

Kindaichi glances behind him, brows frowning as he watches Yahaba, Watari and Kyoutani quietly murmuring among themselves. They don’t look as strangely determined as the third years, but they look _odd_ . They look... _worried_ , like they’re anticipating something awful is about to happen.

“This time, _don’t_ try and be a hero,” Watari says quietly to Yahaba as they shuffle past him. “That rampage Kyoutani went on last time almost got us _disqualified_.”

“It wasn’t a _rampage_ ,” Kyoutani grumbles, looking, if possible, more pissed off than usual.

“You killed _five_ first years in like thirty seconds!” Yahaba sighs, though he can’t quite manage to keep the fond lilt out of his tone. “One of them _cried_.”

“Well, next time maybe they’ll think before they shoot,” Kyoutani sniffs.

“What the hell?” Kindaichi asks as the second years disappear round a corner and out of sight. He turns to Kunimi who, thankfully, looks equally confused. “Did you understand that?”

“Not a word.”

“Well,” Kindaichi hums. “I suppose that’s something.”

They shuffle into the gym behind their team and, somehow, things get even _weirder_ . The gym is deathly silent and everyone - _literally everyone_ \- is glaring at each other. As he slides into the first empty seat he can find, Kindaichi catches sight of Oikawa shooting the captain of the basketball team the most _poisonous_ glare he’s ever seen.

“What. The. _Hell_ ?” Kindaichi asks again, watching as Oikawa directs his glare towards the captain of the _baseball_ team, this time even going so far as to put his hand to his throat and make slitting motions. “What are we missing here?”

Kunimi shrugs, looking particularly alarmed as they watch Iwaizumi lean over Oikawa’s shoulder to scowl down at the vice-captain of the kendo club. “Something in the water?”

Their principals walks out onto the middle of the gym floor and clears his throat, taking Kindaichi’s attention away from the water bottle poking out of his bag, and putting a halt on his conspiracy theories about water turning his teammates crazy.

As he’d expected, the speech is ridiculously _dull_ . Their principal drones on and on for what feels like an eternity about the importance of sportsmanship and how _proud_ he is of their dedication to their chosen sports and how, even if they didn’t get the result they’d desired (Oikawa visibly tenses at this), they should continue to persevere because hard work begets results and _blah-fucking-blah_.

Boring and generic, but mostly boring.

He’s about five seconds away from completely zoning out when their principal clears his throat and the atmosphere in the room _changes_.

Suddenly everyone is sitting upright and one hundred or so attentive gazes are fixated on their principal.

He clears his throat again and Kindaichi can’t help the feeling of nervousness that shoots through him.

“Now, as a reward for all your hard work over the past year, and the many successes you have each brought this school, it is my _pleasure_ to announce our annual sports festival.”

Kindaichi frowns. Is _that_ what’s got everyone so high strung? A sports festival? _Really_ ? He gets that they’re fun, and the individual teams involved in them can all get pretty competitive, but _really_?

“And, due to its unfathomable success last year, we’ve decided to bring back the immensely popular, _Paintball Assassin Tournament_.”

Kindaichi’s mouth falls open in shock. He must have misheard, this can’t be real. It _can’t_ be—

“Last team standing wins the prize.”

And _that_ is when everything goes to shit.

 

* * *

 

“Look who I found wandering by the library,” Matsukawa huffs, tugging Kindaichi into an unused classroom, making sure to lock the door behind him once they’re both inside. “Poor kid, didn’t even have any ammo.”

“ _Kindaichi_ ,” Hanamaki laughs, striding across the room to pull him into a tight hug. “Kindaichi Yutaro you _son of a bitch_ , I thought you were dead.”

Kindaichi blinks, glancing to his left to see Kunimi - sitting crossed legged on a table next to a very sweaty looking Watari - looking just as confused as he feels. “Has— Has everyone lost their minds? It’s just a game of _paintball_.”

“ _Just_ a game of paintball?” Hanamaki parrots, eyes widening as he takes another step forwards until they’re standing practically nose to nose. “Kindaichi, Kindaichi, my poor naive Kindaichi. This is more than _just_ a game.”

Kindaichi frowns, trying to catch Kunimi’s gaze to beg for help. Kunimi - wisely - keeps his gaze fixated on the gun his hands. “It...is?”

“ _Kindaichi_ ,” Oikawa says sharply, shoving Hanamaki out of the way so he can grasp Kindaichi tightly by the shoulders. “This is a matter of _life_ or death.”

Alright, it’s official. Everyone has gone mad. He’s the only sane person left on the team - maybe even the planet if the carnage outside is anything to go by. “I mean, I don’t think it’s really tha—”

“ _Life or death_ ,” Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa _and_ Iwaizumi say loudly in unison, all crowding around him with identical maniacal grins stretched across their faces.

“Winning team gets first dibs on the gym schedule for the _entirety_ of the next school year,” Oikawa says seriously - more seriously than Kindaichi has _ever_ seen him. “Do you know what that means?”

Kindaichi slowly feels realisation dawn on him, and something tighten in his chest. “No more six am practice sessions on Saturday morning?”

“No more six am practice sessions _any day_ ,” Oikawa breathes, eyes shining with what _might_ be tears. “First dibs for a _whole year_ , my young _Padawan_ . And you think this is just a _game_?”

“Shit.”

“Shit _indeed_ ,” Oikawa says, lips curving upwards into a satisfied grin. “Last year we were _so close_ , but _someone_ decided to play hero—”

Everyone pointedly glares at Yahaba, who promptly starts whistling.

“Which caused _someone else_ to go on a rampage and reveal our hiding place.”

Kyoutani shrugs. “I did what had to be done.”

Yahaba blushes. Watari pretends to puke.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Oikawa continues, rolling his eyes. “This year is _our_ year.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Think of it as our going away present to you guys. Something for you to remember us fondly by.”

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kindaichi mumbles. “That’s so ki—”

“Alright, alright,” Matsukawa says loudly, cutting across him. “You can get all emotional _after_ we’ve won this thing. Makki, the battle plans?”

“Battle...plans…” Kindaichi echoes, watching as Hanamaki strides across the room to pull down on a piece of string hanging above the blackboard.

“I call this,” Hanamaki says dramatically, tugging the piece of string firmly so a large piece of paper falls down. “Operation _Destroy Every Other Team And Leave High School A Legend_.”

“Is that a _map of the school_ ?” Kunimi squawks, pointedly ignoring the ridiculous name Hanamaki has dubbed this ‘mission’. “That’s a map of the school. _Why_ do you have a map of the school.”

“Sssh my little sproutling,” Hanamaki hums, rummaging through the desk until he finds a stick. “Hanamaki-senpai will look after you.”

“Where did you even _get_ that?” Kindaichi asks, peering closer at the map. “Did you— Did you make this _yourself_?”

“Well,” Hanamaki shrugs. “Iwaizumi helped.”

Kindaichi glances behind him to shoot Iwaizumi an incredulous look because he’s learnt to expect this kind of thing from Hanamaki and Matsukawa and Oikawa, but Iwaizumi has _always_ \- always - been the voice of reason among the third years and— Oh. Nope.

Kindaichi watches as Iwaizumi brandishes a slightly smaller version of the homemade map of the school (again, _how_?) and lays it flat over the nearest table, before he starts fervently stabbing at it, with Oikawa nodding enthusiastically by his side.

Turns out Iwaizumi is just as bad as the rest of them. He’ll have to find a new senpai to look up to. Maybe Yahaba? No, he’s seen his ass too many times. Watari, maybe? Yeah, Watari seems like a safe choice.

“ _So_ ,” Hanamaki clears his throat and hits the board with his newly found stick. “Can we _please_ get back to Operation _Destroy Every Other Team And Leave High School A Legend_ ?” Silence follows his request, and Hanamaki grins brightly. “Thank you. _Now_ , let’s begin.”

 

* * *

 

This is ridiculous.

His senpai are _ridiculous_.

His _school_ is ridiculous.

Hell, _he’s_ ridiculous for going along with this.

Everything is ridiculous.

“Alright,” Oikawa sniffs, yanking Kindaichi’s collar to throw him behind a block of standalone lockers, narrowly saving them from being hit by the tennis club. “We get it, you think this is ridiculous.”

“That’s because it _is_ ,” Kindaichi squawks, watching as Kyoutani jumps up from his spot and - roaring loudly - peppers the tennis club with an array of colourful paint pellets. “This is a _school_ . _Agh_!” He ducks again as a stray member of the tennis club lucky to miss Kyoutani’s attack, jumps up from behind an overturned table and runs towards them.

Oikawa sighs and takes him out with one well-aimed _flick_ of his gun, splattering the poor kids shirt with bright fluorescent paint. “Honestly, Kindaichi, your utter lack of enthusiasm is really worrying.”

“Yeah,” says Iwaizumi, pausing for a second to fling a balloon full of paint at members of the rugby team closing in on them from one corridor. He grins almost predatorily as the balloon explodes, drenching the team head-to-toe in dark green paint. “I thought you’d be more into it, like Kunimi.”

Kunimi takes that moment to leap up from behind the locker and dash round the corner, screaming bloody murder as he empties his chamber down the corridor.

“They grow up so fast,” Matsukawa sniffs, wiping away a pretend tear as they watch Kunimi single-handedly _destroy_ the boys swimming team, yelling ‘ _take that you Free! assholes_ ’ while he does so.

“Feels like just yesterday we were forcing him to run laps around the gym,” Hanamaki sighs happily. “We’ll have to buy him a gift.”

“It’s clear!” Kunimi calls, racing back towards the lockers with Kyoutani in tow. “Corridor’s clear.”

“ _Kentarou_ ,” Yahaba says sharply voice filled with so much obvious panic, nobody even acknowledges his use of Kyoutani’s first name. He points to a patch of red slowly blossoming on Kyoutani’s chest. “You’re hit. _Shit_ , he’s hit. _He’s hit_.”

“ _No_ ,” Oikawa gasps, bottom lip wobbling, eyes filling with tears. “Not Mad-Dog-chan, _no_.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and glances away. “I can’t believe…”

Hanamaki closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Matsukawa’s shoulder. “ _Why_ him? _Why_?”

Matsukawa pats him gently, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

Watari pulls Yahaba in for a hug.

Kunimi covers his face.

“Chill,” Kyoutani says with a shrug, lifting up his shirt slightly. “I’m not hit, it’s blood. Cut myself on a door.”

“Oh,” says Yahaba. “Thank God.”

 _Ridiculous_ , Kindaichi thinks as everyone nods in agreement. _Absolutely ridiculous._

 

* * *

 

“Right,” Oikawa says, peeking out from behind a row of overturned tables. “According to my intel—”

“Your _intel_?” Iwaizumi asks, quirking a brow.

“I have a friend on the baseball team who has a friend on the tennis team who told _him_ that, aside from the football team, we’re the only ones left.”

“So,” Hanamaki says.

“This is it,” Matsukawa breathes, lips curving upwards into that same grin Kindaichi saw earlier.

Watari starts humming the beat for _The Final Countdown_ and Kindaichi immediately erases him from his list of Possible Senpai. Maybe he’ll have to look towards other schools, he’s heard good things about someone on Nekoma called _Kuroo_.

“Gentlemen,” Oikawa says seriously. “It’s been a pleasure fighting with you.”

“An _honour_ ,” Matsukawa says.

“A fucking _delight_ ,” Hanamaki adds.

“Truly,” Iwaizumi finishes up, reaching forwards to grip Yahaba and Kindaichi by the shoulders, giving them both a good squeeze.

“And _now_ ,” Oikawa continues, still as serious as before. “Now, it’s _time_ for our final stand. Remember the plan?”

“Don’t get hit?” Kindaichi says incredulously because, for all Hanamaki’s dramatics back in the classroom with the homemade map (again: _how_?), his plan was a pretty basic one.

“That’s my boy!” Oikawa says, clapping Kindaichi on the shoulder. “I _knew_ you’d get into this eventually.”

“I mean—”

“ _Sssh_ ,” Kunimi mumbles, shaking his head at Kindaichi. “Just...just go with it, man. It’s easier that way. _Trust me_.”

“Alright,” Oikawa says, taking a deep breath. “After three. One. Two. _Three_.”

And then all hell breaks loose.

 

 

Iwaizumi goes down first. 

It's actually— Well, it's hands down the most embarrassing thing Kindaichi has ever seen  _ever_ , but he supposes it's a little sweet.

Someone from the football team manages to sneak in a quick attack, slapping Iwaizumi squarely on the chest with a pellet of orange paint and Oikawa pretty much  _loses_ it.

They're on opposite sides of the cafeteria but Kindaichi can plainly hear Oikawa's screech of " _IWA-CHAAAAAN! NOOOOO!_ " followed by what  _sounds_ like " _die you football **trash**_ " followed by hurried footsteps and " _Iwa-chan, don't leave me_ " followed by " _OIKAWA, LOOK OUT_ " followed by  _another_ screech from Oikawa and " _you hit me while my back was turned, you_ **cheater**."

Yahaba is next. 

He manages to take out three members of the football team before he runs out of pellets and someone tosses several paint filled balloons from behind their counter and he's drenched in bright pink and purple paint.   
  
"Jesus,  _fuck_ ," Watari groans, watching as Kyoutani goes into Rampage Mode™ (aka, the one thing they asked him  _not_ to do) and takes out two members of the team before  _he_ gets his in the face with a balloon. Watari sighs and jumps from his hiding place, mumbling something about  _second year solidarity_ as he takes down the guy who hit Kyoutani before  _he_ gets hit in the thigh and is out.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki go down like champions. 

Despite how ridiculous this whole thing is, Kindaichi has to admit it's impressive watching them stand back to back, striking down targets and handing each other refills with ease like they've practised this many, many, times before.

They only go down when Hanamaki's gun jams and Matsukawa dives in front of him, taking the shots meant for Hanamaki. " _Mattsun_ ," Hanamaki fake cries, cradling Matsukawa's head in his lap. "You'd— You'd do that for m—"

And then  _he_ gets hit.

"Shit," Kunimi says, peeking up from behind an overturned table. "I think...I think we're the last ones left. Yep, there's one guy left on the football team and  _us_. Holy  _shit_ , no more six am practi—"

Kunimi yelps as a pellet comes flying across the room and hits him squarely on the forehead. "I'm  _hit_."

"Oh no," Kindaichi says, watching as Kunimi dramatically flails around in front of him. " _No_." 

"You have to," Kunimi says weakly. "For...the...team..."

" _Stop talking like you're actually dying_."

"For...the.....team........"

"You are awful and I hate you." 

"...the....team...."

"And you've been spending too much time with Matsukawa," Kindaichi grumbles, taking care to kick Kunimi gently as he stands up.

This is ridiculous, absolutely  _ridiculous_ and he hates his team for putting him in this situation, but—  _But_ , he also kind of loves them.

They're  _ridiculous_ and dramatic and make literally  _zero_ sense about ninety-nine percent of the time, but they're  _his_ ridiculous and overdramatic team and they've come this far.

He sighs as he steps in front of the lone member of the football team, cowering behind a table as he tries to reload his gun. "I just want you to know," he tells the poor kid - a second year, he thinks. "I want you to know I think this is completely ridiculous."

"Uh—"

"But I have to do this... _for the team_."

 

* * *

 

"My mother is going to  _kill_ me," Watari grumbles, staring critically at his paint stained shirt. "Like, literally. Please prepare your funeral speeches. Mention my devilish good looks if you can."

"Of course," Hanamaki says solemnly, draping a bright pink, purple, and orange arm over Watari's shoulders. "How about 'his buzzcut was the envy of boys all over Japan', something like that?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Watari snorts, shoving Hanamaki away. "And you're not looking too great yourself, what's Mama Hanamaki going to say?"

"Excuse  _you_ ," Matsukawa laughs. "Mama Hanamaki has refused to do Makki's laundry ever since our  _first_ paintball tournament."

"Ahhh," Iwaizumi hums, lips twitching upwards into fond smirk. "That was the year before they banned messing with the sprinklers. It took Oikawa  _weeks_ to get the blue out of his hair."

"I had to wear a  _hat_ ," Oikawa sniffs dramatically, shuddering slightly. "Still wasn't as bad as  _your_ first tournament, though," Oikawa adds, nodding to Kyoutani, Yahaba and Watari. "I don't even want to know  _how_ you got all that paint out." 

"Vigorous scrubbing," Yahaba says with a sigh. "Lots and  _lots_ of scrubbing."

"You know this isn't normal right?" Kindaichi says exasperatedly. "Like, I'm sure other schools don't do this. I  _know_ Karasuno don't do this."

"Well," Oikawa says with a shrug. "Aren't you glad you didn't go to Karasuno, then?"

Kindaichi glances around his team, round this  _ridiculous_ team of people he's proud to call friends, and takes in their paint splattered uniforms (and hair, when it comes to Kunimi and Matsukawa, both of whom are proudly sporting splotches of red and green in their hair) and happy grins etched onto their faces and decides yes.

He  _is_ glad. 

Very glad. 


End file.
